17/01/2006
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invia
stampainvia
Scandal erupts over new Egyptian film that shows a couple making out on a bus
A man and a woman are seated at a bus stop. The bus pulls up and they get on.
The driver stares at them as he gives them their tickets. They run down the aisle
and take two seats next to each other in the back. A few seconds pass—a glance
and a smile—and they begin to kiss passionately. Their hands are everywhere as
he pulls back the veil covering her face.
Double standard. This is the opening scene of a new, 14-minute short subject called Fifth Pound
and the first film from Egyptian director Ahmed Khaled. But the outcry caused
by this work about two Egyptian kids making out on a bus is hard to believe. And
it isn’t the sex scenes—rather reserved by most standards—that are raising the
ire of religious and political officials. Authorities have denounced the film
as blasphemous for the blatant “violation” of the girl’s veil and because the
driver is singing verses from the Koran along with radio as he spies on the couple
in secret from the front of the bus. “I wanted to show the double standard that’s
typical of life in Egypt,” the director told al-Jazeera. “Egyptian society likes
to portray itself in a certain way and cultivate a certain idea of itself. They
don’t like it when someone comes along and explodes the stereotype.” The twenty-six-year-old
director just graduated with a degree in fine arts from Cairo’s Helwan University
and he feels the bus driver symbolizes the ambiguity he wants to portray. “The
title comes from the cost of a ticket for two, which is four pounds, plus an extra
pound to buy the driver’s silence. The driver is enough of a believer to sing
along with the Koran on the radio, but he accepts the bribe to look the other
way. And while they make out in the back, he drives on, but he can’t help sneaking
glances at them with a kind of sick curiosity.”
Breaking stereotypes. If Khaled’s goal was to be a little provocative, he certainly hit his mark.
“I had tons of problems getting this film made and distributed. Everyone was afraid
of the public’s reaction,” he explains, “but I finally got it into circulation
and it’s been successful.” While critics have trashed the film as blasphemous,
young people in Cairo have come to its defense. It’s common for kids in Cairo
to take advantage of what they call “mobile beds”—to ride around on city busses
and make out while the driver looks the other way. This allows them to escape
from the tremendous heat in Cairo thanks to the air conditioning and from the
ever-vigilant stares of a society timid about sex, at least on paper. “My fellow
Egyptians don’t want to see things they disapprove of,” Khaled concludes, “but
that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
Celluloid criticism. Egypt boasts a first-rate film culture, but some subjects like politics, religion
and sex are still off limits. For that very reason, some film makers have used
their art for a sometimes not so veiled critique of Egyptian society and the country’s
conservative façade. A few directors have made films to express discontent with
Mubarak regime common among Egyptian intellectuals and now it looks like Khaled
has broken the sex barrier to point up contradictions in Egyptian society. All
it takes is a look at Egyptian television and film to get a look at a separate
world—a world very different from the one inhabited by the clerics at al-Azhar
University who condemn everyone and everything and pry into the most private aspects
of people’s lives. Their latest foray is a kind of manual on how to make love
strictly for reproductive purposes without offending religious dictates in any
way, shape, or form—not in any way, shape, or form. Without going into details,
it’s easy to see how two separate worlds seem to exist side-by-side in one country.
It’s also true that cosmopolitan Cairo is a very different place from the countryside
where religious conservatism is a way of life. One thing is for certain: when
the al-Azhar clerics go to work in the morning, they don’t take the bus.
Double standard. This is the opening scene of a new, 14-minute short subject called Fifth Pound
and the first film from Egyptian director Ahmed Khaled. But the outcry caused
by this work about two Egyptian kids making out on a bus is hard to believe. And
it isn’t the sex scenes—rather reserved by most standards—that are raising the
ire of religious and political officials. Authorities have denounced the film
as blasphemous for the blatant “violation” of the girl’s veil and because the
driver is singing verses from the Koran along with radio as he spies on the couple
in secret from the front of the bus. “I wanted to show the double standard that’s
typical of life in Egypt,” the director told al-Jazeera. “Egyptian society likes
to portray itself in a certain way and cultivate a certain idea of itself. They
don’t like it when someone comes along and explodes the stereotype.” The twenty-six-year-old
director just graduated with a degree in fine arts from Cairo’s Helwan University
and he feels the bus driver symbolizes the ambiguity he wants to portray. “The
title comes from the cost of a ticket for two, which is four pounds, plus an extra
pound to buy the driver’s silence. The driver is enough of a believer to sing
along with the Koran on the radio, but he accepts the bribe to look the other
way. And while they make out in the back, he drives on, but he can’t help sneaking
glances at them with a kind of sick curiosity.” Breaking stereotypes. If Khaled’s goal was to be a little provocative, he certainly hit his mark.
“I had tons of problems getting this film made and distributed. Everyone was afraid
of the public’s reaction,” he explains, “but I finally got it into circulation
and it’s been successful.” While critics have trashed the film as blasphemous,
young people in Cairo have come to its defense. It’s common for kids in Cairo
to take advantage of what they call “mobile beds”—to ride around on city busses
and make out while the driver looks the other way. This allows them to escape
from the tremendous heat in Cairo thanks to the air conditioning and from the
ever-vigilant stares of a society timid about sex, at least on paper. “My fellow
Egyptians don’t want to see things they disapprove of,” Khaled concludes, “but
that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” Celluloid criticism. Egypt boasts a first-rate film culture, but some subjects like politics, religion
and sex are still off limits. For that very reason, some film makers have used
their art for a sometimes not so veiled critique of Egyptian society and the country’s
conservative façade. A few directors have made films to express discontent with
Mubarak regime common among Egyptian intellectuals and now it looks like Khaled
has broken the sex barrier to point up contradictions in Egyptian society. All
it takes is a look at Egyptian television and film to get a look at a separate
world—a world very different from the one inhabited by the clerics at al-Azhar
University who condemn everyone and everything and pry into the most private aspects
of people’s lives. Their latest foray is a kind of manual on how to make love
strictly for reproductive purposes without offending religious dictates in any
way, shape, or form—not in any way, shape, or form. Without going into details,
it’s easy to see how two separate worlds seem to exist side-by-side in one country.
It’s also true that cosmopolitan Cairo is a very different place from the countryside
where religious conservatism is a way of life. One thing is for certain: when
the al-Azhar clerics go to work in the morning, they don’t take the bus.Christian Elia
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